Mr Monk's Excellent Adventure
by Smileyfax
Summary: Changes in the lives of Monk and Natalie lead them to embark on a truly excellent adventure. Dedicated to my friend Froglars.
1. Mr Monk Gets An Eyeful

Adrian Monk wished for the millionth time in the past eight months that he had never regained his sight. Natalie Teeger agreed with him, if only he would stop shrieking every time he came over.

Monk's latest agony had several sources. Some months ago, Natalie had come to him and told him that she was pregnant.

"What? How? No, Natalie, you're on birth control pills." He suddenly remembered Julie was also in the room. "Uh, I mean...Tic Tacs."

At that, Natalie glared at Monk. "Yes, Mr. Monk, Tic Tacs. So when Julie accidentally threw my pills away, she actually did replace them with Tic Tacs, thinking that's what they were." Natalie regretted the harsh lie, but knew Monk would try to fire her for what she'd done if she didn't try to guilt him into letting her keep her job. In reality, Natalie guessed, quality control at the pill factory was just on vacation one day.

Monk was aghast. "Oh, Natalie, jeez, I'm sorry, please, if there's anything I can do..."

"It's Ambrose's."

Monk blinked. Monk blinked again.

"...What's Ambrose's?"

"...My baby, Mr. Monk. We had sex and he knocked me up."

And thus began the first of Monk's bouts of shrieking as he fled from the room at the thought of Natalie, his brother Ambrose, and sex all rolled into one.

XXXX

A few months later (after several intense therapy sessions with Dr. Kroeger), Monk was again a regular visitor at casa Teeger. Ambrose had not moved in (naturally, insisting that his and Adrian's father Jack Monk wouldn't be able to find them again, as well as his severe agoraphobia), and he and Natalie had decided to remain friends.

On one night, Natalie decided to reveal something equally earth-shattering to Monk's battered psyche.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Monk, but I've broken a promise I made to you before, me and Julie."

A quizzical expression appeared on Monk's face. "What promise..." Dawning horror appeared on his face. "No."

"Yes, Mr. Monk. Julie and I have become nudists." And with that, Natalie and Julie began stripping off in front of Monk.

Monk again fled the house, shrieking at the top of his lungs.

XXXX

"I think Natalie is trying to kill me," Monk confided to Dr. Kroeger the next week.

Dr. Kroeger remained silent for a moment, evaluating the statement. "Adrian, we've talked about this before. There's nothing wrong with the naked human body, and Natalie getting pregnant certainly wasn't something to be upset over, no matter who the father is. You should be happy for Natalie that she's making her own choices."

"But she's forcing Julie into a life of perversion!" Monk pointed out.

"Adrian, how old is Julie now? Didn't you tell me she was 18?" Monk grimly nodded. "Alright, she's a legal adult now, she's entitled to behave how she likes, within the confines of the law." Monk opened his mouth, but Dr. Kroeger cut him off. "And Adrian, myself and Captain Stottlemeyer have already explained to you that it is not a crime to be in a state of undress within your own home or in specially designated public areas." Monk frowned and leaned back.

"I think you're working with Natalie," Monk concluded.

Dr. Kroeger sighed. He was glad, at least, that Monk was putting his son through college (in both a financial and inspirational manner).

XXXX

So, Monk eventually managed to get used to Natalie and Julie's frequent nudity (though he always kept his gaze skyward as often as possible, resulting in him stumbling in the Teeger household frequently). One day, though, he began shrieking and wouldn't stop.

His eyes were affixed to Natalie's breasts, grown larger from the pregnancy. She had begun lactating. Three of Monk's greatest fears -- nudity, milk, and human reproduction -- were at ground zero of his social life. Natalie was trying to shout at him over his screams, but to no avail. Monk couldn't even bear to run this time, his trauma so deep.

Finally, a mercy from God (as Natalie took it), Monk fainted.

XXXX

Monk awoke in his own bed. Standing around him, with mixed looks of concern and annoyance, were Natalie, Stottlemeyer, and Dr. Kroeger.

"Oh, Natalie, I had the most terrible dream. You were a pregnant lactating nudist..." He looked down at her protruding belly. He blinked once, twice.

He began shrieking again. Dr. Kroeger came forward instantly, syringe in hand. As Monk felt the prick in his neck, he began to complain that he didn't like meds, but everything was so slow...

XXXX

After a solid week of counseling (granted after the combined begging of Natalie and Stottlemeyer), Monk was finally able to cope with Natalie's new condition. His recovery was helped along, ironically enough, by a visit from Harold Crenshaw.

Monk answered the door after returning home one day to find an enraged Harold on the other side.

"What did you do to Dr. Kroeger?" Harold demanded.

"What do you mean what did I do? Are you sure it wasn't something you did, Harold?" Monk fired back.

"Dr. Kroeger cancelled all my appointments this week, and I found out that he booked you for a whole week! How did you brainwash him, mister master detective?"

A cruel smile came to Monk's face. "Actually, Harold, Dr. Kroeger told me that he was thinking about attending to me full-time from now on. He said that he prefers the way I arrange the magazines in his office. He told me to tell you to...move on."

Harold's face, which had already been an impressive shade of red, moved up the spectrum to head-popping purple. He raised his fists in fury, then let his arms drop in defeat as he screamed out in frustration. "Damn you to hell, Adrian!" Harold shouted as he turned to leave. "You're lying and I'll find out! I'll send him an email!"

"Nice try, Harold, but Dr. Kroeger doesn't have email!" Monk jeered back. He was answered with the slamming of the door. 


	2. Mr Monk Kills Stottlemeyer With His Mind

Monk was spending a relaxing evening at home, counting out grains of rice as Natalie watched (fully clothed -- it was Monk's house, after all). "After all these years, Mr. Monk, I still can't believe you."

He grinned. "I know, I'm such a risk-taker."

"Mr. Monk, you're counting out each grain of rice! How is that risk-taking?"

"I've never had rice before." Monk grinned again.

Natalie considered this. "Okay, fair enough. Why did you decide to try it?"

A pained look appeared on his face. "They were out of noodles at the supermarket." Monk finished his chore. "A thousand grains of rice." A content smile appeared on his face. "Okay, what next?"

"You have to add water and put it in the microwave, Mr. Monk!"

The pained look appeared on Monk's face. "But...but my water is just for drinking. I can't use drinking water for cooking."

Natalie rolled her eyes. "Gee, Mr. Monk, just set aside some water for cooking!"

Monk considered this. "That might actually work!" He again was smiling. He opened one of his cupboards, removed a pallet of Summit Creek water, and moved it into the ingredients cupboard, after removing a bottle to pour into the rice.

Natalie watched as Monk carefully poured water out of the bottle. "Mr. Monk, why did you stop drinking Sierra Springs, anyway?"

Monk dropped the bottle, getting water all over and overturning the bowl of rice, scattering the grains all over the counter. Monk surveyed the mess and let out a little moan.

"Natalie...do you remember when I was in the Witness Protection Program and we went up to that cabin in the mountains?" Natalie nodded. "Well, when we were lost in the woods, after I drank out of Sierra Springs' spring, I saw...I saw..." Monk began to cry.

"What did you see, Mr. Monk?" Natalie asked, concerned.

"I saw an animal make a BM into the spring." Monk's tears flowed freely now at the mere thought of it.

Natalie almost hugged him, then thought better of it. "Mr. Monk, you do know that was just a lie Stottlemeyer told you, right? That wasn't really Sierra Springs' spring."

Monk looked aghast. "You mean...it was nature water? It already had animal BM in it?" Natalie nodded. "Wipe, wipe, WIPE!" Monk demanded. Natalie handed over the packet. Monk tore it open and began stuffing it into his mouth. "Uphuffuphm," he explained.

Natalie yanked the wipe out of his mouth. "Mr. Monk, what do you think you're doing? You'll choke to death!"

"What's the point in living? I drank BM water. Damn Leland, I'll see him in hell."

As if on cue, the phone started ringing. Monk was closer, so he answered.

It was Randy Disher. "Monk, oh God," Randy was near tears.

"Randy, what is it?" Monk asked.

"Captain Stottlemeyer. He's dead."

XXXX

Monk and Natalie arrived at the scene of the crime in record time, driving whatever car is sponsoring the show this season. Randy was standing over the crumpled form of his fallen captain, angrily issuing orders to the other officers on the scene. He noticed Monk and Natalie and marched over, all business. "Monk, thank God you're here. We've got to bust the piece of shit who did this and put him away for life." Monk winced at the dirty cuss but he definitely agreed.

"Randy, I'm touched by your devotion."

The three turned at the sound of the voice. It was Stottlemeyer, alive.

"But...you...we...huh?" Randy said, turning between Stottlemeyer and the body. He finally ran forward and embraced the captain in a hug, thorougly embarrassing Stottlemeyer. He let it go for a few moments, then shooed Randy off.

"Randy, did you know there was a Leland Stottlemeyer Fan Club?" he asked the lieutenant.

"Uh. No?"

"Neither did I until I got the call that I was dead. It'd be more accurate if they called themselves impersonators, actually." They walked over to the dead man, who they now realized was actually wearing a convincing Stottlemeyer costume. Stottlemeyer looked at the dead man for a few moments before shuddering and turning away. "I don't know what weirds me out more, seeing myself laying dead there or knowing there are people who intentionally dress up as me."

XXXX

They soon discovered that the Leland Stottlemeyer Fan Club Convention was located a few blocks away, at a cheap motel. As they entered the main convention room, the fake Stottlemeyers turned as one to look at the newcomers. "Monk," they all growled out in Stottlemeyer's particular voice. "Natalie," Monk whispered. "This is fear 313."

"I thought you only had 312 fears, Mr. Monk."

"Not anymore."

XXXX

"Ah, Stottlemeyer Prime," the president of the fan club greeted him. "Long have I waited to finally meet you." He took Stottlemeyer's hand and bowed.

"Uh, yeah, that's nice. Now, why are you freaks dressed as me?" Stottlemeyer asked.

"Isn't it obvious, Leland? You are clearly the best cop in human history."

"Don't call me Leland. And why do you think I'm the greatest cop in history? Monk is leagues better than I am."

"Pff, Adrian Monk is a shiftless layabout who let a little thing like the death of his wife bring him down. Besides, he doesn't have the 'stache and the growl."

"The 'growl'?" Stottlemeyer growled, way past annoyed.

"Exactly. Besides, we killed our brother to see if you could solve the case before Monk!"

"...You what?"

"Oops, let the cat out of the bag! Can you pretend you didn't hear that?"

"Not really. You're under arrest." Stottlemeyer pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"What about the rest of us? We all arranged the murder!" The entire group of Stottlemeyers growled their agreement. Stottlemeyer rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if he had a severe headache. He called over a cop. "Sergeant, call it in, we need a large number of officers to bring in these...suspects."

XXXX

As the quartet left the convention hall, Stottlemeyer sighed. "I swear to God, I'd better wake up tomorrow and this was all a stupid, stupid dream."

"Well, at least you're alive!" Randy said with a smile.

Stottlemeyer smiled back. "Yeah, there is that, I guess." He turned to Monk. "Oh, Monk, there's a message for you down at the station. It seems the FBI wants you to help consult on some case down in Miami." 


	3. Mr Monk Was Brutally Raped As A Child

Monk looked hesitantly at the gate. He and Natalie were waiting to board their plane to Miami, and Monk was deathly afraid to go through the door.

"Natalie, I don't want to fly," he finally told his assistant.

"Mr. Monk, I understand you're afraid of heights, enclosed spaces, and those little bags of peanuts, but the FBI is paying you a lot for you to consult on this case."

"It's none of those things -- actually, it's all of those things, but it's something else."

A concerned look was on Natalie's face. "What is it, Mr. Monk?"

He glanced around furtively, then leaned in closer. "Snakes," he replied.

"Snakes?" Natalie asked, confused. Monk nodded in the affirmative.

"Mr. Monk, there aren't any snakes on the plane. That was just a movie that Julie forced you to watch."

"But still..." Monk whined.

Natalie sighed. She reached around and unlatched something from her neck. She placed it into Monk's hand.

"What's this?" he asked, after shrieking and wiping both it and his hand down with a wipe. (It had been near Natalie's breasts, after all).

"It's my St. Patrick's medallion, Mr. Monk. See, my patron saint is St. Patrick, because I'm a borderline alcoholic and my favorite cereal is Lucky Charms. But Saint Patrick is also known for uttering the line, 'I've had it with the motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking country', so he's also the patron saint of killing snakes. That's why his Saint's Day falls on Whacking Day."

Monk smiled fondly at the Whacking Day celebration earlier that year; he'd managed to break the spines of over a dozen snakes. The smile turned to a bitter frown, as he recalled getting credit for none as he had to personally collect them and take them to City Hall for tallying. That miserable piece of shit Harold Krenshaw had won the trophy that year.

Monk was shaken out of his reverie as he noticed Natalie's shirt becoming increasingly damp. He pointed and gibbered for a moment.

"Oh, I'm lactating! I'm sorry, Mr. Monk, I can't help it..."

It was no use explaining it to him, for he had fainted out of shock and disgust.

XXXX

Monk looked around. He was in the front yard of his ancestral home. Judging by his height and the manner of clothes he was wearing, he was about two or three. He was busy clearing the yard, making certain that no blade of grass was taller or shorter than any other.

A large van pulled up to the edge of the yard. It was a Pedo Van, the kind that didn't have any windows save for the windshield. The side door opened up and a voice called to him: "Hey, little boy, come here! We've got some papers for you to collate!" Joy blossomed in Monk's heart -- collation! He eagerly toddled to the van, where strong hands seized him up into the vehicle. The door slammed shut, leaving little illumination. A sinister silhouette leaned over him.

"Hey kid, have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" he asked.

He reached for Monk.

XXXX

Monk awoke with a start. Natalie was shaking him. "Mr. Monk, the plane's landed, it's time to go!" she said cheerily, unknowing of the horrible trauma Monk had just dreamt.

He grabbed his bags from the overhead compartment -- really, they were just ultrajumbo packs of wipes -- and disembarked from the airliner.

They stood in the arrivals area of the terminal for a while until Natalie spotted an older man holding a sign that read, 'Adrian Monk'. "Look, Mr. Monk, that's the man we're supposed to meet!"

The man holding the sign spotted them as well, and they met halfway. "Greetings, Detective Monk, Ms. Teeger. I'm Special Agent Lundy." 


	4. Mr Monk and the Gratuitous Crossover

Monk and Natalie were riding up in the elevator with a member of the Bay Harbor Butcher taskforce, Vince Masuka.

"So, you're some hotshot detective from the West Coast?" Masuka asked. Monk nodded.

"You know, the hotel you're staying at is pretty famous," he offered.

"Oh? Famous how?"

"Well, a few months back, the Ice Truck Killer left a shitload of blood in one of the rooms. Floor, walls, ceiling...it saturated every single surface."

"Saturated..." Monk began looking queasy.

"What room did you say you were staying at?" Masuka asked.

Monk was unable to answer. Monk had passed out.

XXXX

He came to as smelling salts were being waved under his nose. Lundy tossed the capsule into the trash. "Shame on you, Vince. You know Adrian here has a very serious disorder."

"Um, no, that's not how it works," Natalie interjected.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you see, Monk is ostensibly a comedy show with drama on the fringes. If people keep acknowledging that Monk has OCD, the comedy goes right out the window."

"It's true," Monk admitted. "If I sanitize my hands after shaking hands with a black man, it's funnier to give him the impression that I'm a racist than it is to explain my disorder."

"Oooookay," Lundy finally said, brow furrowed. "Well, let's get you briefed on the case. The Butcher is a vigilante killer -- each one of his victims have themselves killed, had a connection to a missing person, or a repuation for violence. He sent a manifesto to the press, which we determined to be a red herring. From this, we suspect him to be an employee of the Miami Metro Police Department."

"Well, what evidence have you collected?" Monk asked.

Lundy grimaced. "Painfully little. We know what pier he docks his boat at, but since a lot of cops use that pier, it only narrows the list down a little. We've also been working on ascertaining the locations of the various officers, but it's slow going."

"So...no crime scenes? No eyewitnesses? No evidence? What the hell am I doing here then?" Monk asked. "Seriously, I've got absolutely nothing to work with."

"Come on now, Adrian. I've studied your cases. Hell, you solved three or four murders from a newspaper alone!"

"Well...I'll help out where I can, but I need actual clues to get results. Until then, this is just a gratuitous crossover."

"I understand," Lundy said.

Natalie's cell phone rang. She answered it, talked a little, then her face got all sad like when you heard the actor in a popular TV series just died. She closed the cell phone.

"Oh my God, Mr. Monk, we have to go back to San Francisco right now!" she told him.

"Why? What happened?"

Tears were brimming in Natalie's eyes. "Dr. Kroger died."

XXXX

As they boarded the plane bound for San Francisco, Monk wondered whether he should have told Lundy that Dexter was the Bay Harbor Butcher. 'Nah,' he thought to himself. 'They'll figure it out on their own.' 


	5. Mr Monk and the Canadian Shrink

"Mr. Monk?" Natalie called. It was 3 in the morning, and Monk had called her, asking her to come over. She had accepted right away, not wanting Monk to be lonely in his grief. She immediately shucked her trenchcoat, leaving her in the nude (remember, she turned into a nudist a few chapters ago) and felt her way through the dark apartment. She made her way to the only source of light -- which happened to be a laptop. "Mr. Monk, I thought you hated computers?" Natalie asked.

"I do," Monk admitted. "But ever since Dr. Kroger died, this is the only thing I could think of." He gestured to the screen.

Natalie looked. It was the video site YouTube, and it was playing a beautiful montage of photos of Dr. Kroger, set to that one popular sad-sounding Enya song that usually gets played over slow-motion clips of 9/11. "Oh, Mr. Monk, it's beautiful!"

However, she spoke too soon, as at the video's ending, a message popped up, reading: 'Harold Krenshaw was responsible for Charles Kroger's death, and is a pedophile. His home address is...'

"Mr. Monk! Delete that right now! That's slander!"

"No it's not," Monk said lamely. "It's libel. Slander is spoken." Still, he sadly clicked on the 'Delete Video' button.

XXXX

Monk looked uncomfortably around the waiting room for the new doctor. He sniffed the air cautiously. Was that...maple syrup?

The doctor's door opened. "Come in, Adrian. I'm Dr. Doustage." The man pronounced it Doh-stahj.

Monk followed him into his office. The walls, unlike Dr. Kroger's office, were covered in miscellaneous bric-a-brac. Monk approached one poster, advertising the movie Howl's Moving Castle. Dr. Doustage joined Monk, clearly admiring the poster.

"I hate it," Monk finally offered his opinion.

Dr. Doustage's face fell. "The movie?"

"No, castles."

Understanding dawned on the good doctor's face. "Ah, that's right, your infamous list of fears. Well, I had an opportunity to look through Dr. Kroger's case file, and I had a few things I wanted to discuss with you. Please, have a seat."

Monk sat down in the chair, which was facing a full-sized flag of Canada. Monk started to feel prickles on his scalp, like his brain was trying to eject itself from his hair follicles.

Dr. Doustage sat down across from Monk. "Now, Dr. Kroger had you diagnosed as having obsessive compulsive disorder, in which a person has very distressing thoughts about things they would never act on -- usually horrible things, like pushing a friend onto subway tracks or driving into oncoming traffic -- and they feel compelled to perform their rituals in order to 'cleanse' themselves of these thoughts."

Dr. Doustage took a sip of water, because he was a thirsty motherfucker.

"On the other hand, there's obsessive compulsive personality disorder. With OCPD, you require everything to be perfect, or it causes you a great deal of anxiety. Now, from reading Dr. Kroger's casefile, it seems to me that you have the latter, OCPD. Unless, that is, you have any distressing thoughts you don't want to act on?"

Monk considered the question. "Well, I usually want to rape every woman I see, but I don't find those thoughts very distressing."

Dr. Doustage stared at Monk for the longest time. "Um. I'd like to schedule sessions for tomorrow, the day after tomorrow...I'd like to schedule a session a day indefinitely. If that would be okay with you."

Monk smiled. Doustage had bought it.

XXXX

As Monk left the office into the waiting room, he was met by Natalie, who seemed agitated. "Mr. Monk, look at the news!" She pointed to the TV present in the waiting room.

"Local detective Adrian Monk has been slammed with a 33 million dollar libel lawsuit by Harold Krenshaw, after Mr. Monk's YouTube video -- which simultaneously eulogized his late psychiatrist and vilified his fellow patient -- received over 100,000 hits in the hour it was online. Copies of the video were instantly put back onto YouTube by other users, and now Mr. Monk faces some serious trouble." As the news anchor talked, file footage of Monk beating up a department store Santa from last Christmas played.

"Damn that Krenshaw bastard!" Adrian cursed aloud.

"Don't worry, Mr. Monk, we'll get the best legal defense you can affHAHAHAHA! Sorry, Mr. Monk, but I just couldn't keep a straight face!" Natalie replied, tears in her eyes from the laughter.

"It's not that," Monk dismissed. "Harold knows I prefer numbers ending in zero. The bastard's taunting me." Monk narrowed his eyes in anger as he pondered his next move. 


	6. Mr Monk Makes Things Worse

Monk put on the blackest clothing he wore. Natalie did too, though she didn't like clothing very much. Stottlemeyer and Randy, too, were donning their darkest duds, for they were all preparing to visit the funeral of Dr. Charles Kroger.

Thousands of people had turned out for the occasion to pay their last respects to the great man. Most notably was that one actor dude that Stanley Tucci played, who had gone to Dr. Kroger after he acted himself into a pile of crazy. (Dr. Kroger wept silently at the thought of two Adrian Monks, so had worked extra hard to cure him). Elton John was also there, to sing his new song, "Psychiatrist in the Wind", eulogizing Dr. Kroger.

Dr. Kroger was to be buried in the Viking style, like his ancestors: His most valuable possessions were to be loaded up onto his boat along with his body, and the entire shebang would be pushed out to sea and set ablaze.

Monk hated death, hated the sea, and hated crowds, but wanted to be there to wish Dr. Kroger well. There was only one thing he hadn't counted on.

"Oh, hello, Adrian," Harold Krenshaw spat out to his long-time nemesis. "Have you come to rape Dr. Kroger's corpse?"

"I'm sure you want to," Monk replied. "After all, what's rape, after murder!"

"Mr. Monk, you're not supposed to say that!" Natalie shushed him.

Harold glared at Monk. "Tell me, Adrian, how much did you pay your whore of a wife to sleep with you?"

Natalie could no longer restrain Monk. He leapt forward, punching Harold in the face as hard as he could, breaking and bloodying his nose, loosening a few teeth.

Harold shoved Adrian off of him and threw a punch, which Adrian ducked. Harold instead struck Hulk Hogan.

The former wrestler turned and roared in anger, picking up Harold and tossing him into a group of people watching the spectacle.

After that, the funeral turned into a riot. Chairs were being broken and used for clubs, guns fired, fires started breaking out...people had hopped onto Dr. Kroger's boat, tossed his body overboard, and were using it to escape the melee. That's when the shark attacked...

Monk and Natalie, crawling on their hands and knees (wipes rubber-banded around Monk's limbs so that he did not touch the ground), managed to avoid getting in any further scrapes. All the while, though, Natalie continued to glare at Monk.

XXXX

Monk, Natalie, and Julie watched from the rooftop of Monk's building as the riot engulfed San Francisco. Tens of thousands of people had poured into the streets, looting, pillaging, and destroying. Dr. Kroger and his viking heritage would have truly been proud.

As a massive pillar of dust and ash rose from where the Transamerica Pyramid once stood, the sound of automatic gunfire and emergency sirens wafted through the city along with the smoke of the many fires.

Finally, Monk spoke up. "I don't remember seeing Troy at the funeral."

"Dr. Kroger's son? Are you sure? There were a lot of people there and you were busy starting one of the most destructive riots in history," Natalie replied.

"I'm sure he wasn't there. Doesn't that seem strange?" Overhead, fighter jets streaked by, dropping their ordnance on targets downtown.

"Well, we can go over to his house tomorrow and ask him," Natalie concluded. They watched below as an armored column rolled down Monk's street, flanked by men holding tear gas grenade launchers.

"I think it's time we head inside," Monk finally said. 


	7. Mr Monk Gets an Awesome Fountain

The next morning, Monk got a call from Dr. Kroger's lawyer. Apparently, Monk was named in Dr. Kroger's will.

Natalie arrived soon to pick up Monk -- amazingly, she had been named too. They drove to the lawyer's office, where Troy waited -- no surprise that he'd be in his father's will.

The trio walked into the lawyer's office, who introduced himself and explained that Dr. Kroger had made a video will. He inserted the DVD into the player, turned on the TV, and left.

The main menu of Dr. Kroger's video will showed up. Monk scanned the options: Play Movie, Subtitles, Extras, and Trailers. Monk chose Play Movie.

The screen turned black for a moment, before Dr. Kroger appeared onscreen, sitting in his office. "Hello Adrian, NATALIE, and Troy." Natalie's name was obviously dubbed in; Dr. Kroger had mouthed 'Sharona' when he spoke it. "If you are watching this movie, then I am dead. Many things can kill a man, but we all know that dying on Monk means I've been murdered."

"I knew it!" Monk shouted.

"Calm down, Adrian," Dr. Kroger admonished from beyond, anticipating Monk's response. "I have full trust that you'll catch the man who killed me. In the meantime, I hereby bequeath to you my really cool waterfall fountain thing," he said, gesturing to the familiar object in the rock garden outside his office.

"NATALIE, I want to thank you for being Adrian's nurse all those years. I'm glad that you and JULIE have stayed with him for so long; in fact, I think you and Adrian would make a pretty good couple. In fact, I'm sure a lot more people would read this fanfic if the author put Monk/NATALIE in the description."

"And Troy. I have something important to tell you...about your legacy."

Troy sat up and paid more attention.

"Over a century ago, Sigmund Freud and his people arrived on Earth. They were completely identical to homo sapiens, save for one detail: They had the mystic power of Si-quiatry, or as it's known to humans, psychiatry. This power enables us to treat people with mental disorders without using the barbaric techniques in use at the turn of the century: lobotomies, electroshock therapy, masturbation...but over the years, our people assimilated with the regular population, diluting our power. You are the last pure-blooded member of our race, and therefore you are entrusted with the all-powerful artifact of Sigmund Freud: the Seegar. With the Seegar, you can rejuvenate the hidden powers of anybody who carries the DNA of our race by going to the site of our landing in the Mojave Desert and using the Seegar on the ship which we arrived here in."

"I wish you the best of luck on this quest, my son. Live long and prosper." Dr. Kroger's image gave the V-hand salute, then the image flickered off (for dramatic effect, naturally. When does a DVD ever flicker off?)

XXXX

Troy had locked himself inside Monk's bathroom for three hours now. They had gone there to prepare provisions for the epic journey, and Troy had angrily demanded that he wanted no part of it. Monk, Natalie, and Julie had tried everything except chainsaws (Monk, tragically, was afraid of chainsaws -- something to do with a family trip to Texas in his youth). Finally, they had resorted to tapping out sonnets in morse code, hoping to brainwash Troy.

Suddenly, Julie had an idea. She approached the door. "Hey Troy, I'll let you touch my breasts if --"

She didn't finish the sentence as Troy smashed through the door and took hold of her mammary glands.

Monk sighed. "Can we go now?" he whined. 


	8. Mr Monk is Lactose Intolerant

"Well, this was a fine idea," Monk snarked. Their car had broken down in the middle of the desert, stranding them miles from civilization. "If we had taken my car, I'd have three dozen bottles of Sierra Springs that I could have sold you for three dollars apiece."

"While I admire your capitalistic drive, Mr. Monk, it doesn't change the fact that we're all going to fucking die," Natalie told him, cross.

"Well, the cave is supposed to be like five miles from here. We can hike it!" Troy said, running as he shouted the last sentence. Julie followed, giggling wildly.

"Ah, they should be back in about two hours then," Monk concluded.

XXXX

It was three days later.

Natalie avoided dehydration by drinking water out of the radiator, but Monk had no such luck. It was worse than the time he went to Mexico and somebody had stolen his water.

"Monk, we have to do something for you."

"Just don't bury me upside down, please," he begged.

Natalie's face twisted in annoyance. "No, Mr. Monk. I'm going to save you the only way I know how." She began to take off her shirt.

A look of horror appeared on Monk's face. "No, you can't do that."

"Yes I can." Natalie unsnapped her bra, exposing her large breasts.

Tears formed in Monk's eyes. "Please, just kill me instead."

"No." And with that, Natalie squeezed one of her breasts hard, shooting milk out.

The milk struck Monk dead center in the face, soaking him in the liquid. Natalie shifted her boob down a bit, arcing the milk into Monk's open, screaming mouth. When he tried to turn his head away, Natalie seized his head in an iron grip and forced his mouth onto her nipple, muffling his screams. "Drink, damn you, drink!" she shouted. She pinched his nose, forcing him to gulp for the stuff. Eventually, Monk went limp, into a catatonic state. Once Natalie's breast emptied, she switched to the right one, until that, too, was empty.

As she slipped her shirt back on, she observed Julie and Troy approaching FINALLY. She ran up to them. "Where the hell have you two been?"

"We've been fu-uh, I mean..." Troy stammered.

"It took us a long time to find the ship," Julie explained. "A real long time."

"Didn't you guys become thirsty?" Natalie asked.

"Oh no, there was a big stockpile of food and water just behind that cactus over there," Troy said, pointing to a nearby cactus. His face was covered in smeared lipstick.

Natalie looked at the cactus in befuddlement. Did cacti grow in the Mojave?

"Anyway, let's get going," Julie said. As they walked back to the car, Troy reached into his pockets.

"Oh, hey, I think these are yours," he said, handing a pair of torn panties to Julie.

"Thanks! I couldn't find them before."

Let's pretend Natalie is stupid and didn't notice any of those hints, because it's funnier that way.

XXXX

After repairing the car using Troy's magic alien powers, they were able to return to San Francisco, which was looking good as new after the riots of several days before.

"Ah, back in good ol' civilization," Natalie cheered. Monk was still in a catatonic state.

Troy decided to test out his new alien powers on Monk. "Wake up, human," he uttered. Monk awoke.

"What the hell was that for?" Monk demanded. "I was in a perfectly good state of catatonia."

"It worked!" Troy shouted. "I have to go start being a psychiatrist!" Troy bailed out of the car before it stopped moving and began screaming at passersby.

Natalie continued driving, shaking her head at Troy. She dropped Julie off at her house, and proceeded to take Monk home.

Monk began fixing himself some unsloppy joes (Natalie marvelled at Monk's skill in making them), but then...

An earthquake struck San Fran. At first, it seemed much weaker than the one which had struck the city several years ago, but then Monk tried to leave his apartment and found that the door was stuck.

"Oh no," Monk whispered.

"Oh no!" Natalie shouted.

"I'm glad we agree," Monk responded.

"No, not that, Mr. Monk!" Natalie again shouted. "My water broke!" 


	9. Mr Monk is At Your Cervix

Monk stared at Natalie, a look of horror frozen on his face.

"Don't just stand there, Mr. Monk, do something!" she screamed at him.

Monk began screaming as loud as he could. Natalie rolled her eyes and pulled Monk over to the couch. She sat on it, tore off her skirt, and spread her legs open. Monk's screams only increased in intensity.

"GODDAMNIT, MR. MONK, SNAP THE FUCK OUT OF IT!" Natalie screamed. "YOU GET BETWEEN MY FUCKING LEGS AND YOU HELP ME GIVE BIRTH NOW!"

"Um..." Monk said. "Let me go get a speculum."

"You have a speculum?" Natalie asked, but he was already gone.

He returned, smiling, holding it in his hand.

"Mr. Monk," Natalie said through gritted teeth. "That is not a speculum. That is a SPATULA."

"Oh."

"There's no time, we'll have to use it! Get in there, Mr. Monk!"

Monk rolled up his sleeves and used the spatula to prop Natalie's vagina open. He reached in and began feeling around for Natalie's child.

"Almost there, Mr. Monk!" she cheered him on.

Monk was now in almost to his shoulder. "I can feel the head!"

"Pull it out, Mr. Monk!"

Monk strained and pulled, and finally Natalie's baby was out!

"You have to cut the umbilical cord now, Mr. Monk!"

He looked desperately around. "I don't have any knives or scissors!"

"You'll have to bite through it!"

Monk began crying.

"Look, Mr. Monk, I know this is bad, but just think: After we get the placenta off, I'll fry it up for you to eat."

It was all Monk could do not to throw up. He eventually managed to bite through the umbilical cord without fainting, and reflected that he would have to have his entire mouth sterilized, have his teeth removed, and have a pair of dentures put in place.

He put the baby -- a boy -- into Natalie's arms. "Oh, he's so cute!" she cooed. "But wait...something's wrong, Mr. Monk. I think...I think I have another one!"

Monk began crying again.

XXXX

Three hours later, the fire department busted down Monk's door to find Natalie holding two boys in her arms. "Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to Adrian and Ambrose Teeger."

They found Monk huddled under the shower, blasting hot water onto his fully-clothed body as he occasionally took mouthfuls and immediately spit it up for scalding him.

XXXX

Several weeks later, Natalie was visiting Monk in the hospital with Julie, Troy, and the twins. Natalie told him that Julie and Troy were engaged now, and that Harold Krenshaw was now demanding 111 billion dollars from Monk.

"Natalie, I've been thinking over the past few weeks, and I think I've solved the case."

"Which case, Mr. Monk?"

"Every case." 


	10. Mr Monk Unmasks Everyone

Monk had assembled everybody to Manse Teeger, the estate of Natalie's rich parents. Trudy's parents were there, as well as Monk's own family, Jack and Ambrose (his father and brother). Stottlemeyer and Randy were there, and Joe Christie too. Marci Maven showed up, surprisingly enough, as Stottlemeyer's date. Kevin Dorfman, Monk's annoying neighbor, was there. Dr. Kroger's family had showed up, as well as Dr. Doustage. Willie Nelson had even made a surprise appearance. Naturally, Natalie and Julie were there as well. Monk's lawyer was there too, that one bald guy whose name I don't know but he's one of those character actors, you know, he played the beautician in Princess Diaries. And, well, if there was anybody important from Monk's past and I'm forgetting them, just pretend that they really were there or that they died or something.

Anyway, everybody was sitting at the rather large table in the dining room when Monk entered in his usual Monk outfit. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I called you here today," he pointed out. "Over the past nine months or so, my life has gone through a number of changes. My beloved psychiatrist Dr. Kroger died, my assistant Natalie gave birth to twins, Troy discovered he has a secret alien heritage, and we discovered pirate gold last week -- but I digress. For you see, I have not only solved one case, but I have solved every case in the history of cases."

He was pacing deliberately around the table, sneering at everybody, as if they were all criminals. Finally, he stood at the head of the table and spoke.

"Our first guest of the evening is Harold Krenshaw. Harold, would you please come in?"

After several moments, nothing happened. The people sitting at the table started whispering to one another.

"Hm, no Harold?" Monk commented. "That's strange. I wonder where Harold could be. Do you know where he is..."

Dramatic pause!

"...DR. DOUSTAGE?!"

All eyes turned to the good doctor. "Eh, uh, Adrian, why would I know where Harold Krenshaw is?" he said with a nervous laugh.

Monk approached him. "Oh, I can hazard a guess." With that, he reached for Doustage's neck grabbed hold of the flesh, and pulled up.

A collective GASP filled the room. Monk had a Dr. Doustage mask in his hand, and in the chair sat Harold Krenshaw.

"Your one mistake, Harold, was not prescribing me medicinal marijuana. As a Canadian, you love shoving your opinions down everybody's throat, and that includes your belief that everybody should be a card-carrying hippie. However, you're not a Canadian, and so you didn't do any of those things. I'll admit, though, you threw me off for a second with the office."

"Monk, I'm confused," Stottlemeyer interjected. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Well, it's the first of his many crimes: Practicing medicine without a license. And his second crime: The murder of Chad Kroeger."

"Uh, don't you mean Charles Kroger?" Natalie asked.

"Right, right," Monk dismissed her. "Here's what happened..."

XXXX

Harold crept into Dr. Kroger's office, where he knew the doctor was working late at night. He knew it was a matter of time before Dr. Kroger ordered him to be legally murdered, so he decided to take Dr. Kroger out of the equation first.

He reached out to open the door...and that's when he noticed he was in black and white. He was in Monk's summation! He crouched behind a couch and waited for Monk to finish talking so that nobody would actually see him stab Dr. Kroger to death.

XXXX

"DAMN YOu, KRENSHAW!" Monk cursed, as Harold ruined his summation. "I can still prove you were there that night."

"Oh really? How, Adrian?" he spat out.

"Simple, Harold. Your stupid way of arranging the magazines into a pyramid. Cursed by your own hubris."

"Alright, Randy, book Harold for the murder of Dr. Kroger," Stottlemeyer ordered.

Monk held out his hand. "Wait, captain! You can't do that!"

Stottlemeyer stared at Monk. "And why not?"

"Because Harold Krenshaw doesn't exist."

"Then who the hell is that, Monk?"

Monk simply grabbed the flesh under Harold's neck and pulled upward.

A collective GASP filled the room. Monk had a Harold Krenshaw mask in his hand, and in the chair sat...

Dramatic pause!

...Alice Cooper.

"You see, Alice Cooper, I've suspected you for years, ever since you killed Jimmy Cusack for his wingback chair. But you thought you could throw me off the scent by making it look like the accountant did it. And you thought you could throw me off the scent of all those other murders, too."

"Monk...what other murders?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention?" Monk said flippantly. "Alice Cooper is head of the treacherous Order of the Killer Hippies, the oldest secret society in the world. Every violent death ever can be traced back to them. Xerxes, Julius Caesar, Genghis Khan, Vlad the Impaler, Robespierre, and Hitler were all past leaders of this group. They all lusted after one thing: Luxurious chairs."

"This is the most goddamn ridiculous thing ever," Stottlemeyer muttered.

"And that's not all! I solved Trudy's murder!" he declared. At this, Trudy's parents looked up, hopeful. "Would our second guest enter and sign in please!"

Judge Judy Sheindlin walked into the room. "I give you the Judge, ladies and gentlemen. Trudy was going to write a bad review of her show, but before she could publish it, she hired Frank Nunn and Warrick Tennyson to plant the bomb in her car. Judge Judy, do you have anything to say to Alice Cooper?"

"I'm sorry I got caught..."

Dramatic pause!

"...Son." Another collective GASP filled the room. Many more plot twists and somebody might rupture a lung.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the last plot twist of the evening...bring him in, boys!"

Two officers walked alongside a forklift. On the forklift sat Dale Biederbeck, aka Dale the Whale.

"Let me guess, Monk, Dale is actually Harold...er, Alice Cooper's father."

"Close, Leland, but no cigar. You see, Dale Biederbeck is in fact several midgets." With that, he grabbed a sword off the wall and sliced it across Dale's ample belly.

The skin slid off...revealing a metal shell. "Not quite, Mr. Monk," Dale's voice chortled, now with a robotic undertone. "You see, they don't call me the Fat Man for nothing."

He grabbed at his skin and ripped it off. Underneath was a great metal sphere, topped by a computer interface where Dale's head used to be.

"You see, Mr. Monk, I'm a sentient nuclear weapon."

Monk paled. It was a whole new ballgame.

XXXXXXXX

Gasp! What a cliffhanger! What will Monk do now that his nemesis has revealed himself to be a sentient nuclear weapon?

Stay tuned for Mr. Monk and the Sentient Nuclear Weapon! (Or, if I end up too lazy to write it, just assume that it detonated itself right after the end of this chapter).

(Oh, please note that this is the end of the fic. The sequel will get its own story). 


	11. Mr Monk and the Alternate Ending

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the last plot twist of the evening...bring him in, boys!"

Two officers walked alongside a forklift. On the forklift sat Dale Biederbeck, aka Dale the Whale.

"Let me guess, Monk, Dale is actually Harold...er, Alice Cooper's father."

"Close, Leland, but no cigar. You see, Dale Biederbeck is in fact several midgets." With that, he grabbed a sword off the wall and sliced it across Dale's ample belly.

Out of the belly tumbled seven midgets. "You'll never take us alive!" they screamed in unison, and attacked.

One started off by punching Monk in the balls, who immediately fell over into a fetal position. The rest leapt onto the dinner table and began biting the guests. Mass chaos erupted as people fled the midget attack. The bitten people began convulsing and shrivelling up -- they had contracted Midgetitis.

Monk stood up and limped away, clutching his balls in agony. In the main hall, he ran into Natalie's mom. "Mrs. Teeger, where's Natalie? Where's your husband?"

"I don't know where Natalie is, but those awful creatures bit my husband," she wept.

"Is there anything we can do?" he asked her.

She nodded. "There's a self-destruct sequence in the master bedroom. We installed it in case poor people ever overwhelmed our defenses. I'll take you to it."

Monk followed Mrs. Teeger to the master bedroom, not looking back as the pitter-patter of dozens of tiny footsteps sounded behind them. They reached the master bedroom and Monk barricaded the door with a nearby bookshelf.

Mrs. Teeger accessed the computer while Monk held the bookcase against the door. It began rocking with the force of dozens of tiny little fists for a moment, and then was silent. Then, a horrible grinding noise reached their ears, and Monk realized that the midgets were chewing through the doors.

"Done! You have a minute to escape through the window, Mr. Monk. Give me the sword, I'll hold them off. And if Natalie escaped...tell her I love her."

Monk nodded and handed her the sword. He opened the window and stepped out, the last thing he heard from the room being "Come and get me, you little sons of bitches!"

He ran across the roof, desperate to make it to the rear of the house. He made it and looked apprehensively at the pool below. Suddenly, he heard screaming behind him. He turned, and it was a horde of angry midgets, mouths bloodied, wielding paring knives. He turned and made one tremendous leap...

which...

almost...

didn't...

make it.

He surfaced from the water with a gasp and looked up. The midgets were lining up at the edge of the roof and it looked like they were about to jump...

KABLOOOOOOOIE

Monk surfaced below the water as the fireball licked the surface of the pool. When he rose back up, the fireball had dissipated and the house was nothing but a crater. He pulled himself out of the pool and stumbled through the ruins. Miniature charred skeletons were strewn all about, as was the occasional piece of flaming debris.

"Natalie?" he called out. "Ambrose? Captain?"

"I'm here, Monk," a voice called out. Monk turned. It was Natalie.

They stared at each other for a long moment, then rushed to each other and embraced.

They pulled back from their embrace. "Mr. Monk...I've always loved you."

"I always loved you too, Natalie. Let's get married."

They ran off to Natalie's car, holding hands.

If they'd stayed a minute longer, they would have heard some movement under some of the debris. Shortly after, a midget (badly burnt but alive) crawled out. It climbed up a tree so it could get a view of the city of San Francisco below. It then began maniacally laughing.

XXXX

Gasp! What a cliffhanger! What will Monk do now that the evil midgets plot to take over San Francisco?

Stay tuned for Mr. Monk and the Little Problem...er. Actually, I already have a fic with a similar name. Well, this is an alternate ending anyway, so I'll probably never continue along this vein. 


	12. Mr Monk and the Weird Alternate Ending

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the last plot twist of the evening...bring him in, boys!"

Two officers walked alongside a forklift. On the forklift sat Dale Biederbeck, aka Dale the Whale.

"Let me guess, Monk, Dale is actually Harold...er, Alice Cooper's father."

"Close, Leland, but no cigar. You see, Dale Biederbeck is in fact several midgets." With that, he grabbed a sword off the wall and sliced it across Dale's ample belly.

Immediately, Dale began deflating as if he were a giant balloon. Out of the cut poured dozens of giant beetles...or something resembling beetles, anyway.

They began speaking, horribly enough, in a high-pitched voice. "WE WILL STRIP THE FLESH FROM YOUR BONES, ADRIAN MONK!"

Monk screamed, dropped the sword, and began running. The other guests at the table began running too.

Monk and his brother Ambrose eventually wound up in the pantry. "Adrian, look!" Ambrose pointed out. On the shelves were cans of hair spray (Monk wondered why hairspray would be in a pantry) and lighters. Each brother took a can and a lighter, opened the door, and began incinerating the bugs, laughing gleefully.

XXXX

They're doing their part! Are you?

Join the Mobile Infantry! Service guarantees citizenship! 


	13. Mr Monk and the Magic Alternate Ending

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the last plot twist of the evening...bring him in, boys!"

Two officers walked alongside a forklift. On the forklift sat Dale Biederbeck, aka Dale the Whale.

"Let me guess, Monk, Dale is actually Harold...er, Alice Cooper's father."

"Close, Leland, but no cigar. You see, Dale Biederbeck is in fact several midgets." With that, he grabbed a sword off the wall and sliced it across Dale's ample belly.

Dale's ample form sloughed off of a very pale man, wearing a robe and crouching in a ball. With the fake exterior gone, he now stood up.

His face was...very wrong. It looked like the face of a snake, but on a human's body. He pulled out a stick.

"Adrian Monk...so nice to finally meet you out of the flesh." The man grinned humorlessly at his joke. "I am Lord Voldemort."

"Lord who?" he asked.

Voldemort scowled. "Filthy mudbloods," he muttered under his breath. "Do you know why I arranged all this for you, Adrian?" he asked. Monk shook his head warily.

"IMPERIUS!" Voldemort shouted, thrusting his wand at Monk. Monk suddenly found himself unable to move. "Now, Adrian, you will do exactly as I tell you. I have a question that you will answer, or I will perform the Cruciatus curse on all your friends, and then I will kill them one by one. Do you understand me?"

Monk nodded, now terrified. Voldemort smiled.

"Very well then...why do kids love Cinnamon Toast Crunch?"

"Because it has sprinkles!" Monk answered enthusiastically.

Then Voldemort pulled the Trix rabbit out of his black silk top hat.

"Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids!" Everybody at the table screamed. 


End file.
